


Bucky Barnes: Newly Dread

by Christina786



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Football, Language, M/M, Mild Language, Swearing, UCLA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina786/pseuds/Christina786
Summary: When Bucky Barnes wakes up after a rough night in Vegas, he gets the surprise of his life. And could everybody please stop calling him Barnes-Rogers?AN: Why is Steve a football player? Well, because I needed a team sport that a) has one or more team captains and b) raises national pride in Americans and I got no idea what baseball is about. Why is Bucky a teacher at uni? Well, because Bucky is a responsible human being, at least that's what he tells himself. Their occupation isn't supposed to do more than serve the narrative. So please don't be turned off by the idea of Steve as a football player and please don't mind any factual errors concerning the lives of football players. Thank you and I hope you enjoy the story. Also, a really big thank you to everybody who has left kudos and comments!





	1. Newly Dread

There was a heavy arm draped over his waist when he opened his eyes. It was covered with blonde hair that sparkled golden in the intrusive light of the morning sun that had awoken him so rudely as it fell into his face in all its brightness. He tried to remember last night, but couldn’t quite get through the heavy mist of Bourbon which clouded his memories and was probably also responsible for the throbbing ache in his head. Sluggishly, he turned around to look for more clues as to what had happened last night, but as his eyes fell on the face of the man lying beside him, a whole different flood of memories hit him. Steven Grant Rogers. The guy who had left him hanging so many years ago.  
  
A cornucopia of new questions opened up: _How_ had Rogers gotten into his bed? How had _Rogers_ gotten into his bed? How had Rogers gotten into _his_ bed? How was this possible? Was he actually awake? Was this just a nightmare? His head started to ache. Or rather to ache even more. He jumped out of bed, damning the move as the dull pain in his head reminded him of the reason why he had trouble remembering in the first place. He stubbed his pinky toe at the foot of the bed and cursed. Gee, if that hadn’t woken him up, the chances that he was still asleep were rather slim. He turned around. Looked out the window. And saw a pathetic hotel swimming pool, a parking lot and a lot of sand and vast desert landscape in the distance. Vegas. He sighed. Yes, he had decided to drive down to Vegas for the weekend. But as far as he remembered, he had meant to go alone, with his two idiot friends. And they had planned to stay at the New York, New York. This did not look like the New York, New York. This didn’t even look like the strip. This was… he looked around and grabbed a key card. This was the fucking Super8! And why didn’t his idiot friends keep him from – what? – fucking his former best friend turned turncoat?  
  
Maybe Nat remembered what had happened, her Russian genes rarely let her enter the same level of intoxication he and Clint were so prone to. He looked around the room, his eyes stopping on the body lying on the bed. He was still beautiful. He had put on some lean mass since high school, no wonder with him being a professional athlete. It suited him. His bare shoulders didn’t look as fragile as they had in elementary school, they carried a team, they probably still carried all the responsibilities Steve Rogers had always shouldered himself. Only these days, they looked the part. He tore his eyes away in search of his cell phone. No use staring at a guy who would probably flee from his room as soon as he realised what might have happened. His phone lay on his nightstand, surprisingly hanging on a charger. He ripped it off and let it dial Nat’s number.  
  
It rang. Once. Twice. Then: “Congrats, James.”  
  
“Nat! What the hell?!”  
  
“I could ask you the same thing. One moment you are shouting at that random guy and next thing I know, you run off with him.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“And what’s with that text? ‘Guess who just got married?’ What’s up with that?”  
  
His eyes widened in panic as he looked down at his ring finger and in fact saw a ring so big he was wondering how he could have missed it in the first place.  
“What the hell?” he whispered not so much into the mouthpiece of his phone but rather close to it.  
  
“I was about to ask the same question, James. What. The. Hell?”  
  
“Apparently, I married Steven Grant Rogers last night and I can’t remember a fucking thing.”  
  
There was silence at the other end of the line for a few seconds. Then he heard an astonished:  
“Well, fuck me, Barnes, how did you end up marrying Captain America?”  
That was a question he’d like to have answered as well.


	2. Well...shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory-flashback-thingy and Steve waking up and definitely not taking the situation seriously enough. Then again...why should he?
> 
> Oh, I also realised, maybe I should put in a warning that there's a lot of "language" being used. So if you're not into curse words or the occasional f-bomb, this prolly ain't for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: Wow, thanks for all the nice and amazing comments, so yeah, thanks to you all for taking time out of your day to read this and maybe leave kudos, or even a comment. I really appreciate it. Though your incredibly nice comments made me really want to not let anybody down or not live up to their expectations with some crappy backstory, but we need backstory. So yeah, I hope you're happy with this.

**”Brady, Rogers and Edelman lead Patriots to their most dominant season yet**  
Foxboro, MA: _After eight weeks New England remains the only undefeated team in the NFL going 8-0. Thanks to tightend Rookie Rogers, who time and time again, shows up in unexpected places to catch crucial passes, and a fresh and even faster Edelman than ever before, the Patriots continue on their leading streak, after an impressive 38-12 win against the Giants […]”_

He sighed deeply. Fucking Rogers. Draft steal Rogers. That asshole had cost him, and everyone and their grandmother acted like he was a fucking hero. Bucky threw his newspaper onto the empty subway seat next to him, causing the young woman who sat one seat further down to look at him with a cocked eyebrow. Then her eyes fell onto the open page.  
“You mind if I read this? Big fan of that guy.”  
He shrugged. “Knock yourself out. But he’s an asshole, just so you know.” He got up dramatically and wanted to get off the train only to notice that he still had three stops to go. He was pretty sure today was not his day.

When he arrived at the institute, he saw Natasha Romanov sitting on a small stool in front of the coffee maker, staring at it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. After returning from his deployment last year, a lot of things had changed for him; UCLA had taken him on as a teaching assistant for Russian language, something he had never thought to be a career path he’d be wandering down, but during his time abroad he had learned Russian like a second mother tongue, so here he was, teaching young kids Russian. It took some getting used to, as he was used to rigid structures and following orders, but Natasha, though technically his boss, left him free reign over his students, and with them, he was the boss. The other reason for him following down a civilian career path was his left arm. An accident in the field had left him with severe burns and loss of sensation, so he was of no use to the U.S. Army anymore. The job here he had gotten thanks to Nat, whom he had met on the dancefloor of a nightclub. She was one of the best dancers this town had to offer, but due to Hollywood being random had never gotten a chance at the acting career, she had first pursued. However, with an impressive degree in Russian literature and theater, she was more than fit to teach and despite her seemingly cold behaviour, Bucky knew that she loved her students. Most of them. And she loved teaching. Plus, the hours at university made it possible for her to work as a stunt double, whenever university life got too boring. From time to time she even dragged Bucky with her, and even though he routinely cursed and complained, he secretly enjoyed it. It was kind of therapeutic to use his old skills, but knowing how the fight would end. All that added up to a pretty cool life that rarely ever got boring, but that sometimes lacked the structure and routine he had been used to for such a long time.

Right now, Nat did not acknowledge him except for a slight nod of her head, untrained eyes might have missed. Not asking questions and only slightly concerned about Natasha’s state, he took two coffee mugs from the faculty cupboard and filled one of them with a little cream and the other one with three spoons sugar. As soon as the last gurgling noises from the coffee maker had slowly faded and then died out completely, he grabbed the pot to fill their cups with the good old black gold, and gave the one with the cream to Nat, who silently but thankfully took her first sip. It was only then when she actually looked at him.

“You look horrible, James. What got your eyebrows so knotted up?”  
“The Patriots beat the Giants.”

“Hu?” he rarely ever caught Nat off guard, and this time he was too aggravated to even enjoy her lack of words.

“Football. The New England Patriots beat the New York Giants. It pisses me off.”

One of her eyebrows slowly but surely crept up and she looked at him sceptically. “I know that you’re talking football, but you don’t even like football. So… since when do you care?”

He glared at her. “Can’t a guy just hate the Pats?”

She snorted. “Not if that guy has never shown any interest in the NFL before, or at least not without raising serious suspicions. So tell me, what is it that got you all worked up and moody on a dreadful morning like this?”

“Their tight end. I went to school with him. He is an asshole. And now his face is plastered on every newspaper on the planet.”

“I highly doubt that, but colour me intrigued. And according to you about 99% of the population are assholes, so what makes him so special that he gets this extra grumpy out of you?”

“A lot. Too much. But how did _you_ end up here, staring at the entertaining coffee maker performance?”

“Ugh, Clint took in a stray. And that asshole retriever decided to sleep in our bed and kicked me all night.”

“Clint or the dog?”

Nat snorted amusedly. “Same difference, Barnes. Same difference. But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you hate this guy so much?”

“I don’t…hate him. It’s more that I am disappointed.”

Nat sighed. “Oh boy, disappointment is so much worse than hate.”

“He’s part of.. he was my best friend throughout childhood and high school. Then we got into trouble and he didn’t care anymore. Got a big contract with a varsity team, went off to college and suddenly was too good for his army friend from Brooklyn, and now he’s with the Patriots and I didn’t even know before I read an article about him.”

Nat’s eyes didn’t grow soft and understanding. Instead she said: “That’s what growing up is like, James. People grow apart.They grow into different directions.”

“We were not supposed to grow apart. We were… I was in love with him back then and I thought he loved me, too.”

“Yeah, love doesn’t magically solve all your problems. One day you’d do anything for the other and the next you’re ready to kill them because they brought home a golden retriever that just won’t let you sleep.”

Bucky had to chuckle. In a way, she was right. And you certainly couldn’t accuse her of sugar coating. But then again, she didn’t know the whole story. He had taken the fall for Steve and all he had gotten in return was radio silence.

*

Bucky heard a noise behind him that promised nothing good. There was the stirring of limbs in between sheets and the soft rustling of fabric. He stared into the mirror and saw the figure in the bed behind him move.

“Shit!” He turned towards the door only to realise he’d get sued for indecent exposure before he’d even make it out of the hotel, “Shit! Nat, I think he’s waking up.” he whispered into his phone, only to hear her laugh on her end of the line.

“It’s not funny! What am I supposed to do?!”

“Talk to your husband, maybe he knows how you got the two of you into this mess.” And with that his so-called best friend hung up on him, leaving him alone in a dingy hotel room with an almost-stranger. This would not be half as bad had they spent the night at the Bellagio, because now he felt like 2004’s cheap white-trash Britney who had gotten married in matching sweat suits – to her high-school sweetheart. And hell, even she had probably slept in a better hotel than him. He was just some random Vegas tramp getting married to a semi-famous footballer in the dark of the night only to spend the night at the Super8. He was…talking himself into a situation much worse than it already was. Maybe this was all just some prank. Maybe he was on Punk’d, except that the show wasn’t being produced anymore. Not even the revival.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He suddenly heard the deep voice he had never forgotten, but somehow buried deep inside some corner of his mind. It still made him feel at home. “I hope you slept well after last night.” Steve added, when he actually looked at Bucky’s face that probably looked something between bewildered, panicked, and stressed out.

“Shit.” Was all Bucky could say. It was worse than he’d thought. Steve sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist like you only ever saw on Greek statues and – to repeat his internal dialogue: shit – Steve was looking like he had been cut from marble himself. He was incredibly beautiful. More so than Bucky had remembered. He swallowed hard. Tried to gather his thoughts. Tried to gather every mean thing he had ever prepared for this moment, when he’d see Steve Rogers again. Tried to remember the things he was mad about. Tried to somehow not just stare at Steve. And failed miserably. He came up empty and somehow this didn’t feel like the first time this had happened to him. So all he could say was another: “Shit.”

“Wow. That’s slightly underwhelming if not offensive, don’t you think?” Steve chuckled.

“Well, I am slightly overwhelmed and underprepared, so sorry for the lack of words to describe my utterly messed up emotional state right now.”

Steve gave another laugh. “That sounded by far more eloquent than the former graphic description of excrement.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” It just burst out. He just needed to know how much he had messed up his life.

“We met. You screamed. I kissed you. We talked. You shouted at me a little more. I kissed you a little more. You asked me to marry you. We had a lot to drink. And I think we had sex, but that memory is pretty hazy so it could have just been a dream.” Steve grinned at him like nothing was wrong. Like they had just had a fun evening.

Bucky glared at him: “Why did you have to say yes?!”

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Because you asked me and I thought it was a good idea at the time. I don’t mean to use that as an excuse, but we did have a lot to drink, you know?”

“You don’t say? That definitely explains the weird headache I’ve been having all morning. Gee, Steve, I noticed.”

“What the heck are you angry at me for? It was your idea to get married in the first place. I just went with it.”

“You know I can’t hold my liquor.”

“Actually, I don’t, Buck. The last time we saw each other, we were underage.”

“Shit.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Well, how would you sum up this situation?” Bucky asked.

Steve thought about it for a while. Then he looked at Bucky. “Well… shit.”

For a moment Steve could keep the straight face, before there were some cracks in his façade and he broke through a smile into roaring laughter. Bucky tried to stay angry, but pretty soon he felt a weird feeling bubbling up from his chest. A laugh. First it was a small laugh, but then it grew into full-on laughter, right from the belly. He joined in with Steve, and for a few moments they just sat there in their dingy hotel room and laughed their hearts out, before Steve tried to regain his bearings. It took him a couple of attempts, but finally he was able to speak again.

“But for real”, he gasped, “we don’t see each other for almost ten years, and the night we randomly meet in a city like Vegas, we immediately get married? Come on, Bucky, that’s funny.”

“Yeah, but not ‘haha’-funny. More the ‘my aquarium’s on fire’-kind of funny.” he deadpanned.


	3. Captain America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk. Steve walks. And no, his name is not Barnes-Rogers.

_“Captain America saves New England’s winning streak  
Pittsburg. After Gronkwoski had to leave the field early during Sunday’s game against the Steelers, tight end Rogers was able to deliver a performance on a whole new level, and almost single-handedly save the winning streak his Patriots are on, winning their eleventh game this season with a phenomenal 32-6 victory. Prior to leaving the field, Gronkowski named Rogers Team Captain in his stead, due to Rogers’ achievements this season. In the press conference following the game, the rookie chose to stay humble and thank the Patriots for the chance they took on him. However, quarterback Tom Brady was full of praise for his new favorite target on the field: ‘We would not be at this point if it weren’t for Steve. So, seeing that we’re the New England Patriots, he’s our Captain America!’ Rare praise from the mouth of veteran Tom Brady, who[…]”_

  


“I hope you didn’t read the paper this…” Nat began, but when she saw his face, she just shook her head. “James, we talked about that, no more football news for you. Or if you suddenly discovered your huge interest in football, switch to college football.”  
  
“Worse. I watched the game. Clint made me watch the fucking game. I want that time back. Why do people voluntarily watch 3+ hours of adult men throwing around a ball that looks like Gronk sat on it?”  
  
“Did you just conversationally use a football-player’s name?”  
  
“I know. It’s bad. It’s your idiot boyfriend’s fault.”  
  
“He’s not my…and since when does Clint watch football? He’s only ever been interested in archery, everything else was too…physical.”  
  
“Well, somebody told him about Rogers”, his eyes pierced into Nat’s face, but she just waved his look away. “And he also said, that it started to get interesting when he understood what was going on and now that he knows it, it’s like warfare, with all the different strategies and stuff. He’s weird, Nat.”  
  
“Well, he doesn’t usually do anything about the things I tell him, so I thought it would be safe to tell him. Most of the time, his hearing aids aren’t even on and he just smiles and nods at me. Took me some time to figure that out. And yes he is weird.” She sighed, but with a fond smile sitting in the corner of her mouth.  
  
“But also right. If he hadn’t just made me watch my highschool crush in tight spandex, I might even like him.”  
  
“I don’t think it’s spandex they wear. Probably something like goretex or dryfit patented elastic fibre or something. And hey, you didn’t exactly get up and walk away, either. No one kept you.”  
  
Bucky wanted to reply something snarky, but he didn’t have a good argument. And he knew a lost case when he saw one. So he admitted defeat. “Well, there’re worse things to do on a Sunday afternoon than spending it watching your highschool crush’s beautifully shaped behind in these tights.”  
  
“Let’s just not get into this that deeply, okay? Did you have a look at the essays of my Lit 2 class?”  
  
“Not yet, sorry, I was kinda busy watching Captain America save the Patriots.”

  


*

  
For a while, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room, where Bucky sat on the end of the bed and stared holes into the wallpaper and Steve stared at him. It felt weird, but he wasn’t quite sure in which order to ask all the questions that were flooding his mind.

“Buck…” Steve’s hoarse voice made him sit up and gave rise to a feeling that sent shivers down his spine. The good kind of shivers. Or in this case probably the bad kind, as the smartest thing he could do right now was probably just run away as far as he possibly could. He turned to face Steve with a questioning look on his face.

“You are so incredibly handsome.” Bucky almost laughed at that sentence, but he saw the honesty in Steve’s face, so he bit it back. “I always imagined what you would look like now, but… I never expected this.You look so different now, so much sharper and not as soft as back in Brooklyn. But you still look like my Bucky.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “Funny”, he answered bitterly, “how you use a possessive pronoun now and back then I wasn’t even important enough to get an answer out of you.”

Steve’s eyes went sad for a moment and then: “What is a possessive pro…pronone?”

Bucky almost laughed in exasperation. “Why does nobody know their grammar: my, your, hers, his, its…they’re all possessive pronouns. They mark ownership. So funny you think you have some kind of claim on me, when you never claimed me back then.”

Steve frowned a little then replied: “I figured that you never got my letters, because you never answered my questions. For a while there, I was wondering if you didn’t want to talk about what was going on. But then that letter and.. everything. But I did write. I tried to call, but they wouldn’t let me speak to you. Said you were only allowed to talk to immediate family. I said I was your brother, so they said you had no phone priviledges. I wanted to, I meant to stay in contact with you so bad, but then life happened and everything changed and suddenly you were not the first thing on my mind every morning…”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really? How long did that take you? Couple weeks? Maybe three?”

“Three months, one week and six days. That’s when my mom got into the hospital because of complications. She was dying, Buck, despite all we tried, she still died. Peggy’s parents took me in. They even asked me if I wanted them to formally adopt me, but I said I didn’t. I had had a mother, and a great one at that.”

Bucky noticed only now when Steve looked at him with a puzzled look, that he had tears in his eyes. Sarah Rogers had been the closest thing to a mother he had had in life, and now she was dead. He had spent more time in her kitchen than with his own mother. And he hadn’t even known that she had passed away so soon after he had been forced to leave. He looked at Steve.

“I am… I’m sorry, Stevie. I…I didn’t even know when she died. Nobody told me. Of course, I figured she would have needed a miracle to survive until now, I tried to visit her once, but thought you might have moved away, but I didn’t know…how soon…” he swallowed hard and felt one of those tears roll down his cheek. To him, the loss was real and fresh and he felt a little overwhelmed. Steve’s phone rang and while Steve told someone that yes, he was safe and they’d never believe the thing that happened to him, Bucky tried to collect himself. When Steve ended the call, he rose from the bed and walked to the desk that held the trashy tv set from the late nineties. Bucky didn’t really notice the tv, though, when Steve, only in boxershorts, bent over to pick up a courier bag from the dingy floor. HD and spandex were great on game night, but this was something else. Steve sure had changed. Bucky still remembered the scrawny kid he had been, even though when he’d left Brooklyn, Steve had already been hit by puberty like a Pinata. Repeatedly and effectively until the candy started to show.

This time he tried to gather himself for an entirely other reason, as Steve turned towards him and sat down on the bed beside him. Bucky felt his warmth on his own skin and almost immediately smelt that typical scent that had always been Steve. In his hands, Steve held a leather-bound notebook. “I showed this to you yesterday, but you probably can’t remember, seeing that you are a lightweight and had way too much to drink.” He smirked down at him. That was new. Bucky had been taller than Steve until the day he left. It didn’t feel wrong, though.

“I just started earlier than you, Craptain America.”

“Ouch, you heard of that nickname?”

“Hard not to, these days.” And he was right, after that Steelers game, the nickname Captain America had stuck.

Steve had turned an impressive shade of crimson, which had spread not only all over his face, but also flushed along his chest and even down to the upper part of his belly. He awkwardly shoved the book into Bucky’s hands.

“What exactly am I looking for?” Bucky asked when he went through a couple of sketches and recognized a few Patriots players (how had he become so familiar with their faces?). Then a sketch of a woman he didn’t know. And a guy that looked a little like him, if he were a little chubbier, got a haircut, and would shave like a normal person. He did a double take. “Is that supposed to be me?” Bucky asked astonished.

Steve became an even darker shade of crimson. “I drew you from memory, so it’s obviously not going to look like you these days.”

Bucky tried not to feel flattered, because if Steve had drawn this from memory, he must have memorised his face pretty darn well. “When did you draw…” his eyes fell on the date in the corner. It had been weeks ago. About the time the Patriots had played the Giants.

“Anyhow, that’s not what you’re looking for.” Steve interrupted him. “Look at the folded up paper in the front cover.”

Bucky did as he was told and found a neatly folded but slightly worn piece of paper. His fingers slowly opened it, trembling only slightly. When he realised what it was, he looked up at Steve with a horrified look in his eyes.

“That’s my last letter to you. The one in which…”

“…you quoted ‘My Immortal’ to tell me you loved me. If I hadn’t loved you that much myself, that would have been a huge dealbreaker. First of all, because: Evanescence?! And secondly, because you so clearly had the same feelings for me I had for you and we were too stupid to do anything about it. But mostly because of Evanescence.”

“It fit! Back then, it just fit, okay? And I was a teenager. I had feelings. And a lot of them. Also, everybody loved Evanescence back then.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, right. I thought you’d gone batshit crazy.”

“And I thought you had gone AWOL.”

“Well, I didn’t”

“Well, I can see that now. But why do you carry that cringeworthy letter around with you like that? Just so that you can embarrass me in the right moment, in case you bump into me? Because congrats, not only did we happen to accidentally meet, but also did you manage to make me cringe.”

“We did not accidentally bump into each other. You shouted my name through the casino restrooms and took a swing at me that almost hit my manager Sam.” Steve laughed. Bucky cringed a little more. What did he do last night?

“But no”, Steve went on, ignoring Bucky’s discomfort,”It’s actually because I wanted to have something of yours with me, whereever I go. To remind myself where I came from and whom I have to thank for this opportunity. If they had caught me with you, or if you had told them that I had been there, I don’t think I’d have ever gotten a shot at this football thing. And because you told me, you loved me.”

“I guess, a lot of people tell you, they love you these days, Captain America.” Bucky said quietly. He didn’t want to think about the rest of Steve’s statement. He had carried that grudge with him for the past years.

“Yeah. But none that really matter that much. You’re still important to me, even if you try to act like a jerk right now.”

“Maybe I am a jerk these days.”

“Let’s be honest here, Buck, you always have been, but you were my asshole friend. Another possessive pronone.”

“Pronoun, Steve, it’s a pronoun. And why do I feel like we’ve had this argument before?”

“Because, honey, we did. It was the reason you asked me to find a chapel.”

“What?”

“You got all emotional about the letter and asked me if, however crazy that might sound, we should get married.”

“What? Wait, wait, wait, Rogers! What exactly did I ask you? Did I ask you to marry me or did I ask you if we should get married?”

Steve smiled fondly and Bucky didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. “You did the whole thing. The getting down on one knee, the ring… Lord knows where you got that ring from.”

Last night was a disaster. What had happened? Why did it happen? And what was he supposed to do right now?

But there was one thing that definitely made his life better than before. He and Steve were talking again and Steve had never forsaken him. So there was that. Steve was still smiling fondly, twisting the wedding band he wore on his finger. Yeah, they should probably do something about that. But first of all, there was one thing he had to do right away.

He touched Steve’s shoulder softly, just to get his attention. He felt a tingling spreading from his fingertips to his scalp and wondered if Steve felt the same. When Steve looked at him, pupils slightly widened, he knew he did. Bucky smiled.

“You know what I totally forgot?” he asked the blonde.

Steve shrugged. Bucky, however, extended his hand to the blonde athlete and waited for Steve to shake it.

“Hi! Great to see you again, Stevie! It’s been way too long, I’ve missed you.”

It was a few simple sentences. But Steve’s eyes widened. Then he smiled. And then Bucky could see his eyes water.

“Are you really going to cry now, Stevie?” Bucky asked half bemused, half concerned.

“My emotions are bubbling, I’m a quick cryer. And I am still hungover. Or drunk. Anyhow, I am not really to be held accountable for my actions.”

Bucky smiled to himself and shook his head. For a moment there, they didn’t talk, but this time the silence wasn’t uncomfortable as it had been. It was filled with possibility and excitement. He took a look out the window that flooded the room with the morning sun, which had awoken Bucky so carelessly. He felt Steve sitting on the bed next to him, and noticed how his smile grew wider. He turned to look at Steve, when he felt the taller guy shift and disturb the balance on the matress, as he drew closer, Staring at Bucky’s arm. Usually it made him feel self-conscious when people stared at the reminder of his time before he became a teacher, but not with Steve. Steve knew him, or had known him, the good and the ugly, the great and the worst. Well, maybe he hadn’t been there for the worst, but he had definitely seen worse.

“That’s a cool tattoo, you got there, I would have never thought that you were the one to get a tattoo. And then a full sleeve. I always thought you were afraid of needles.”  
“I am.” Bucky said. Then he sighed and continued: “Look a little closer, beneath the surface and you will see.”

He could see Steve’s eyes fix his arm and then he saw his face change with every discovery, when he found the scars, which had built the fundament of his tattoo. They had faded quite well, but they were still visible underneath the mechanical tattoo design.

“What happened to you?”

Bucky took a deep breath. He did not like talking about his time overseas. He did not like to think about it, either. But he had long since learned that it was easier to confront his fears and the feelings of guilt and anger. He knew it was healthier to tell people than to let them guess. “Life in Afghanistan happened. We tried to save some civilians, evacuated them. It was an unexpected air raid during the night. One of the little girls that had lost most of her family, she ran off into a field. I tried to get her to come back and ran after her, tried to get to her in time, but she ran straight onto a landmine. Had I been any closer, I would have lost the arm. Now I only carry her memory in my skin. I just didn’t want it to be that obvious to just anybody I meet, so Nat came up with the tattoo idea.”

“Nat? You got a girlfriend you didn’t tell me about before we got married?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but actually tried to surpress his laughter. “I forgot your special brand of funny. But no, Nat is my best friend and colleague, she’s awesome. And she’s totally in love with a stray called Clint.”

“And what do you think, will she like me as your husband?”

Bucky tried to honestly think about that question. Then he shrugged. “Dunno. She’s gonna be livid she wasn’t invited if she finds out we’d have had the time to invite her, though. How about you? Any girl friends? Affairs? One Night Stands?” he had to know. He had to know if Steve was a taken man and he was the stupid white trash side chick.

Steve’s face turned slightly stern as he shook his head. “No. I am…I am gay in a job where you still shouldn’t talk too much about being gay if you want to make a name for yourself. I’ve had a couple of more or less serious things in the past, but ever since college, my career was my number one priority. I mean, you told me back then to ‘fucking make something off my life’ and as stupid as it sounds, I did not want to let you down. It’s also what I tell the guys when they’re asking me about girls: ‘Nah, man, first I gotta get my ducks in a row’. And I must say it makes sense. When you’re trying to become and be a professional athlete, you either find a partner comitting as hard as you do or you have to do it on your own. You have to make so many sacrifices, it’s just not easy to meet anyone, let alone trying to get to know someone and built a relationship. How about you?”

Bucky was about to answer that, when somebody started banging on the door. Loudly. He looked at Steve.

“Oh, shit.” The blonde guy said, got up, and started gathering his clothes and putting them on.

“What’s going on, Steve?” Bucky asked flabberghasted.

“That’s…”

“Steve!” A dark voice shouted from outside the door, “Get your ass into motion and open that door, we got stuff to deal with.” Steve dragged his jeans up his legs and over his butt – what a pity, Bucky thought for the fraction of a second – then grabbed a shirt from the floor to put it on and proceeded into the direction of the door to open it. Already in the process of Steve trying to fit his shoulders and pecs into the shirt, Bucky could see that it was his. He wanted to say something, but at that point, an aggitated guy with a buzzcut and a mouth that went 100 miles a minute burst into the room.

“Steve, you damn…you… what the hell are you doing in a motel like this, when everybody’s down at the MGM? You got a suite in the MGM, for chrissake, so why do you run off in the middle of your first night out with the team celebrating the…and who is he?” The mouth stopped only for a moment, when he saw Bucky, then he shoved his hand into Bucky’s direction. “Sam Wilson, this guy’s manager and please tell me, you are not a hooker. Is that the right phrase? For a guy? Are you an escort? Are you…”

Steve interrupted Sam with a laugh. “Sam, that’s Bucky, James Buchanan Barnes, my best childhood friend and well, long lost highschool…well, friend. We kind of got married yesterday night. And afterwards we ended up here.”

Sam looked relieved for a moment. “Thank goodness, you’re not a prostitute, wait a minute…” his eyes widened. “You did what?!”

Steve grinned lopsidedly and shrugged. “It happens. It’s Vegas.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and given the situation, Bucky could relate pretty well.

He saw Sam look at Steve, a picture of total exasperation. Then his eyebrows were being drawn together. “I know you like tight shirts, but this is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?”

In spite of the awkward situation, or maybe because of it, Bucky had to snort. “It’s because it’s my shirt. He picked the wrong one of the ground.” Sam looked at Bucky and shook his head.

“I hope you don’t believe that this marriage is legal and you can live off my client, even though you’re now Bucky Barnes-Rogers on some piece of Vegas paper.”

“I…” Bucky was a little taken aback by the guy’s direct approach. But he hadn’t even thought about the fact that maybe, this whole thing wasn’t half as bad as he thought, if Vegas marriages might not be considered legal in the rest of the country. Then he noticed something else. “Barnes-Rogers? Did you have a clown for breakfast? In what world would I do this to myself. James Buchanan Barnes-Rogers, I don’t believe it.”

Steve snorted as well. But for a whole different reason. “It’s what’s on the wedding certificate, darling.”

“It is what?!” Bucky didn’t believe his ears. That was definitely wrong. That was most definitely not legal. All the paperwork it would take him to get his passport and driver’s licence changed. Oh no, he would have never been okay with that.

Sam however threw Steve’s shoes at the athlete. “Come on, Mr. Rogers-Barnes, we need to gte you out of here before the press gets any hints concerning your whereabouts. Julian was smart enough to come up with an excuse, when they realised you were gone. Told them, you were feeling a little sick.”

“Well, he’s not wrong, I do feel a little hungover right now. I had a lot to drink for a guy who doesn’t normally drink.”

An while Steve was getting dressed and ready and talking to Sam, Bucky just spaced out. This was probably just a weird dream. Something he’d wake up from at some point. When Steve was dressed, Sam took him by the shoulder and dragged him into the direction of the door. Steve quickly grabbed his courier bag and waved to Bucky.

“See you around!” he said with his Golden Retriever puppy smile.

When Sam turned around he looked more like a disapproving bulldog. “You will hear from our lawyers, Mr. Barnes-Rogers.” And with that he closed the door behind the two of them, Steve leaving in his t-shirt.

Bucky grinned at the thought of Steve in his t-shirt, then the grin turned into a smile when he thought about Steve’s offer at a reunion, before he slowly and with a slightly annoyed tone of voice said: “My name is not Barnes-Rogers.”

He sat there on the edge of the bed and suddenly realised something that made his stomach drop: he did not have any contact details for Steve. No phone number, no address, nothing. He was back to square one. Except that now he knew, that Steve had kept his letters for all these years and never forgotten him the way he thought he did. Steve had loved him. And they were kind of maybe married. He wasn’t sure if that revelation made the situation better or worse. Then he saw Steve’s notebook lying on the bed. He felt like crying. Steve had forgotten one of his most personal belongings and he had no idea how to get into contact with him. He gathered up the small book and was about to press it to his chest when his cell phone rang. For a short, stupid second he thought it was Steve calling him, but it was Nat.

“What happened?”

“He’s gone. Again.”


	4. Damn Katy Perry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Harry met Sally. Or rather Bucky met Stevie. Not a story he'd wanna tell the grand children, though.

_Shut up and put your money where your mouth is_  
_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_  
_Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now_  
_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_Why are these lights so bright?_  
_Did we get hitched last night?_  
_Dressed up like Elvis, why am I wearing your class ring?_  
_Don't call your mother_  
_'Cause now we're partners in crime_  


He knocked on Nat’s and Clint’s hotel door and when the door finally opened, Katy Perry was blaring through a pair of portable speakers and Clint grinning at him like this was the funniest thing ever.  
  
“Dude, you got married in Vegas, how clichée is that?” Clint laughed, when Bucky almost broke the speakers by switching them off violently.  
  
“Except that my husband ran off with another guy the next morning and didn’t leave me anything but an old notebook. No contact details, nothing.”  
  
“Still sounds pretty clichée to me” Nat chimed in from the bathroom. “Don’t worry, he’ll be in contact. After all, he might want to get divorced.”  
On light feet she came dancing out of the bathroom, perfectly made up and looking incredible as always. She gave him a peck on the cheek and then a hug.  
  
"And maybe he'd like his Superbowl-ring back, you know, that huge thing on your ring finger." Clint added helpfully. Bucky stared at the ring for the first time since he woke up. Not that it hadn't been noteworthy, you could probably see this thing from space, his attention had just been caught up elsewhere. Well, shit. He had his notebook and his ring. It looked a little like he'd robbed Rogers. He groaned.  
  
“Sit down and take a deep breath, James, he will be getting in contact. And this gives you some time to get your thoughts in order, make up your mind about what you want, and regroup.”  
  
“He doesn’t have my number, either, Nat.” Bucky replied. It felt strange to be James again. It had felt weird to be Buck this morning, but now it was almost uncomfortable to be James.  
  
“Yes, but darling, he has something you don’t have: a shitload of money. A manager, a Patriots press team that probably doesn’t want a scandal. Where there is a will and enough money, there’s a way.”  
  
Bucky wasn’t so sure. He had been so sure about so many things for the past ten years, and it all had gotten jumbled up and overthrown. Nat was right, it was probably a good thing that he got a moment to sort this mess out for himself before having another person involved. Especially when said person looked like Steve. Was Steve.  
  
“How did this even happen? Where were you? Why didn’t you stop me from marrying an NFL-star like I am a New England fangirl?”  
  
“Hey, at least you didn’t meet him on Tinder and he’s not Edelman.” Clint said, then he shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. We were looking at the Bamboozled-machine and having a laugh, you said you needed to pee and we never saw you again. We looked for you, but try finding someone in Vegas once they’re gone.”  
  
“Well, James managed to find his childhood love, so we can probably be counted as bad friends.” Nat said, an eyebrow raised, mouth pursed, but with an amused smile in the left corner of her lips.  
  
“Well, okay, but I am not as good at finding people. Have you ever considered a career as a bounty hunter?” Clint asked.  
  
Bucky chuckled in spite of the situation. “Well, it took me almost ten years to find Steve, so I suck, too.”  
  
“But how did you find him?” Natasha asked, now a little more serious. He had had some coffee by now and had noticed how bits and pieces of last night had started coming back. But one thing was for sure, he’d not tell Nat and Clint how exactly he met Steve.

*

He was laughing, grabbing Clint’s arm as they stood in front of a gambling machine called “Bamboozled” which featured the cast of Friends on the screen. The three of them were taking a picture, because Friends happened to be one of their favourite tv-shows to watch together, mostly because it was the only show they could all agree on.

“But we were on a break!” Clint pressed out in between heaps of laughter. An elderly woman walking by them shook her head at their behaviour, but Bucky couldn’t care less. Nat had been right, a trip to Vegas had definitely been the right idea to get away from all their troubles for a while. He couldn’t quite remember when he had had that much fun the last time.

“Nat”, he gasped, “This was the best idea ever! Hold my drink, I gotta go pee.”

Natasha took the glass and shrugged. “Don’t leave us waiting, Barnes.”

“I’m a fast pee’er, don’t worry.”

“Too much information! See you later, Buckaroo. We’ll be over by the arcade or riding the rollercoaster.”

Clint laughed, but Bucky was already on his way.

When he reached the men’s room, he was surprised. It was almost empty. There were only three guys in there with him, one washing his hands, one of them zipping up, the third going about his business. For a moment he thought the guy zipping up looked like Gronk. When he turned to wash his hands, he said:

“Meet me back at the table, not waiting for you. You know the jokes we get to hear if we return together. See you in a moment, Rogers.”

Bucky’s glance shot up into the face of the other guy and it really was Steve. Of all people to bump into in a Vegas toilet, he had to bump into…

“Steven Grant Rogers?!” he shouted across the three pissoirs in between them. Thank goodness he was already drunk, otherwise he might have felt embarrassed by his own shouting. The guy he thought was Steve looked up and at him for a moment, first puzzled, then astonished and then completely surprised. Then he turned red. Gronk made for an even quicker escape, fearing he might be recognized as well. He forgot to wash his hands in the process. Bucky took a mental note. The guy who had been washing his hands made a hesitant step toward the two of them.

“Buck?!” Steve quickly zipped up and made a few steps into Bucky’s direction. Bucky realized that he was still peeing and hastily ended his business and closed his pants. When he was finished, Steve made the last couple of steps toward him.

“Bucky, I can’t believe it’s you! So great to…”

“You fucking asshole!” Bucky growled and clenched his fists. The guy at the sink rushed over and tried to stand between the two of them, just when Bucky tried to take a swing at Steve. But luckily it was neither with a lot of conviction nor well directed. So instead of Steve’s face, he only hit bodyguard guy’s shoulder.

Steve raised his hands and put them onto Bucky’s shoulders. Had Steve’s hands always been that big? Had Steve always been that tall? The blonde turned to the other guy. “Sam, give us a couple minutes, yeah? I got this.”

“I’ll be following the others to the rollercoaster. Call me, if there’s any trouble.” Sam-guy said and headed out.

“What rollercoaster are people talking about?” Bucky asked confused.

Steve had to chuckle. “We’re at New York New York of all places, they have a rollercoaster around the hotel. But yeah, let’s take a walk through those streets of New York, okay?”

“I don’t wanna go with you, I just wanted to tell you that you suck. And you know what’s worse? Everybody loves you and thinks you’re so great.”

“Gee, Buck, don’t hold back. Are you drunk?” Steve smiled a little sadly as he asked.

“Only little. I’m sober enough to know that you left me hanging when I most needed you.” He meant to point his index finger at the middle of Steve’s chest, but his aim was a little off, so he poked him straight into the left pec. “You got bulky.” He said in such an astonished way that Steve had to stiffle a laugh.

“Yeah, a lot happened while you were away. This is so great! I mean, out of all people, I meet you in Vegas! We need to celebrate.” Steve said enthusiastically. He didn’t seem to get that Bucky did not want to spend time with him. Or he simply ignored it. Steve had been stubborn like that.

“Did you not listen to me? And what’s your deal, anyway? First you don’t want me…I mean to know about me, and now you act all happy to see me?”

“I am happy to see you, Buck!”

“Cut the crap! I’m leaving.” He tried to leave, but Steve stood in his way and had him cornered between himself and the toilet stall behind Bucky.

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

“Steve, leave me the fuck alone!” he pushed at the blonde’s chest, but to no avail.

“No. We, my friend, have unfinished business. And a lot of it as it seems.”

“No, we don’t!” Bucky growled. “I just wanted to give you a piece of my mind and that was that. Farewell, have a nice life.”

Steve’s presence made him back away deeper into the stall, but Steve followed him. Bucky did not want to admit to it, but he was kind of scared right now.

“Oh yes we do, and we won’t be leaving this cabin before we’ve talked it through.” Steve said.

Bucky’s calf touched the toilet. He could not back into the stall any further. He did not want to look at the bowl. It was probably gross. Maybe he should cut Steve a deal.

“Okay, we’ll talk, but could we do this somewhere else?” He said rather than asked.

Steve looked at Bucky, a little taken aback. “Are you scared?”

“Mostly a little grossed out by now, but yes, a little scared as well.”

Steve chuckled and laid his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, with his free hand, he grabbed a courier bag that stood on the floor next to the sinks. “Sorry, about that, but desperate times, you know…” And with that Steve steered him out of the lavatory towards the streets of a Greenwich that had been rebuilt in the basement of this Vegas hotel. It wasn’t really like New York, but it was nice. Felt like an evening walk. “Let’s get some coffee into you, then maybe we can talk. Gosh, I missed you, Buck.”

“No you didn’t.” He replied like a sulking kid.

“Yes, I did. Sit down, I’ll get the coffee.” He was about to leave when he turned around and his voice turned slightly pleading: “Please don’t run off while I get the coffee.”

Bucky realised he was being a brat and a jerk and he had tried to punch one of Steve’s buddies. Somewhere in the back of his mind he also understood that Steve being willing to put up with him in this state probably meant something. Maybe that was why he didn’t walk away. He looked at Steve’s back standing at the coffee bar. He had gotten bigger, hadn’t he? What did they feed people in New England? That was when Steve turned around and came over to his table.

“So, Bucky, what are you doing here? Stag party?” Steve started conversationally. Clean slate. Like the scene in the toilet never happened.

“Nah, just spring break at university and we get to be wild instead of responsible. Was Nat’s idea.”

Steve smiled broadly. “So, you’re in university? What do you study?”

“I’m not a student. I’m a teaching assistant for Russian language and literature.” Bucky replied slowly.

Steve’s face lit up. “You are? At which university?”

“UCLA. I live in Santa Monica these days. How about you?”

“I play football for the Patriots, but you might know that already. Otherwise I’m still the same old kid from Brooklyn.”

“You grew. Like a lot.” Bucky gestured at Steve’s frame.

“Yeah, it’s part of the game. I had to grow some muscle, wouldn’t fare too well at 95 pounds dripping wet.” Steve chuckled. Bucky was a little amazed that the guy still humoured him.

“So, what brings you to Vegas?”

“Off-season, blowing off some steam with the guys before we head to our different training camps and combines and whatevers.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt the party. I really didn’t. You should probably just leave me sitting here to sober up a little.”

Steve chuckled. “Nah, not now that I’ve found you again after all those years and in a place like this. No Buck, this was no coincidence. I will not leave you alone before we did not find some kind of closure or way to carry on.”

“You’re being stubborn again, Stevie.”

“You love that about me, remember?”

“I believe this should be a sentence in the simple past.”

“Nothing about our past is simple.” Steve replied and Bucky rolled his eyes internally.

“Simple past. Like ‘you loved that about me’. Because I haven’t loved you in a long time.”

“But you did love me, and this is why this isn’t simple.” Steve said matter of factly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post the whole Vegas adventure, but it got too loooong and also work happened and life and everything in between. But here's something and that darn song doesn't stop playing in my head.


	5. Call Me When You're Sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets a tad emotional in this one, but we get to talk to Sam some more. Also, what happened back in Brooklyn?

_...“But you did love me and this is why this isn’t simple.” Steve said matter of factly..._  
  
It took Bucky a moment to digest what Steve had just said. Then his eyes went wide and had he been a cartoon character, his jaw would have dropped to the floor. He didn’t even deny it. All he could whisper was: “How do you know?”  
“Because it was in your last letter. Because I was too stupid to notice before. Bucky, we…”  
  
All he had ever feared had been true. Steve had gotten his letters and he had never cared to answer. Everything he had held in for all those years burst out at once: “You fucking asshole! Right when I thought you might not have been the scared, shitty person I thought you were… You got those letters and you still never fucking answered me?!? How fucked up are you? You let your best friend hang for something we both did and then you don’t even acknowledge me?” He had gotten to his feet to walk away, but in the split second it took him to get something like orientation, Steve had jumped to his feet as well.  
  
“Unfinished business, Buck! Okay, if you wanna call me names, go ahead, I can live with that. But give me at least the chance to explain myself!” Bucky could see how Steve was losing his cool. He still had that jaw thing going on, when he was about to lose his shit. So Bucky crossed his arms in front of his chest. He did not sit back down, making him stand weirdly close to Steve, who had again cornered him in between himself and furniture.  
  
“I got your letters, yes. And I wrote you back every single time. But seeing your reaction, you never got those letters. I had to plead with Jessica to even give me your new address, as your foster parents did not even answer the door or the phone to me. They even beat Jessica when they somehow found out about my letters. Your dad said I should stop that shit, they had told the director that there was to be no contact between the two of us. I was always wondering how your letters even reached me.”  
  
“Steve, you dumbass, of course they would not let us communicate! I sent those letters to Mr. Jones to forward them to you, and you never figured that out? How many footballs have you had to the head?”  
  
“Well, you could have told me in your letters! He could have told me.”  
  
“No, I had to promise Mr. Jones to not tell or write anyone that he was involved. He was nervous enough about it. And you could have sent them to me through anybody. I got Dum-Dum’s letters, I got letters from Morita, I thought you’d figure out a way to sent letters through them.”  
  
“Oh, Buck, I am so sorry. How did I never get that? Looks like your best friend is a stupid idiot.”  
  
“Nah, my best friend is a Russian ballerina. My childhood friend was an idiot.” He growled, but less angry than before. “But yeah, better dumb than an asshole, I guess.”  
  
They were silent for a moment. Their agitated breathing slowed down, as both had to think through the new knowledge, they got a lot calmer. Steve was the one to break the silence.  
  
“I still got all your letters, you know?” He said a little shy, “But why would you think I had just left you on your own?”  
  
“Because everybody leaves, Steve. In my experience, people always leave when it gets hard.” He looked at the high ceiling above those fake streets. Somehow everything seemed fake to him. His anger, his memories, everything was just some kind of hell he had built for himself, thought up by his own mind. He felt tears pricking in his eyes and groaned, because he did not want to cry in front of Steve. He swallowed a few times and didn’t say anything, pretty sure his voice would break if he did. There were still so many feelings and it felt like he had just been left all over again only to be found instantly. He felt a tear dislodge from his left eye and hated himself for it. He was a former member of the US Army, he had been in Afghanistan, he did not cry because his childhood friend turned out to not be the asshole he had made him out to be. He felt a hand on his cheek, wiping away the tear. Confused he looked at where Steve’s face had been a minute ago, only to notice that Steve had drawn closer and that Steve’s face was way in his personal space. You didn’t just do things like invade people’s personal space, was Bucky’s last thought before he felt the surprise of Steve hesitantly kissing him. Why did he do this? Bucky was taken completely off-guard. In all his anger about his seemingly unrequited feelings toward Steve, he had never thought about what Steve had felt for him. And he had definitely never dared to believe that Steve Rogers might have been in love with him. So, when Steve kissed him, he went completely still, which obviously led Steve to believe that he wasn’t interested in kissing him, so Steve made an attempt to withdraw almost instantly, but before he could, Bucky’s hand went to his neck and pulled him back in. It had taken them almost ten years to get here. But it had been totally worth the wait. He could taste the salt of tears and at this point he couldn’t even say, if it were his or Steve’s tears, because Steve was an easy crier, he remembered that much.  
  
When Bucky had to come up for air, because apparently kissing Steve Rogers could be counted as cardio, he grinned slightly flushed and avoided meeting Steve’s eyes. He didn’t exactly know how to deal with the situation. Too much, too fast.  
  
“I need a drink.” He heard Steve say and he chuckled.  
  
“I totally agree.” He said and they went to the next window in this New York neighbourhood that sold alcohol. After a double shot of whisky, they looked at each other and written across both their faces stood the total lack of comprehension. So they chased their first shot with a second. Steve remarked that he had a bottle of scotch in his room at the MGM and so that was where they were headed next.

  


*

  
Bucky’s office phone rang and he almost dropped his pop tart. His office phone never rang. He stood there and stared at it in bewilderment. Then he scrambled to answer it, almost falling over a heap of ungraded essays. Still cursing, he lifted the receiver. Who in the world would call him on his office phone? His students sent him emails and his friends wouldn’t waste call minutes when there was whatsapp and facetime. Oh, he hated facetime. And most people had the instruction to first ask themselves if what they had to say was textable. With the corresponding suspiciousness he raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked tentatively.

“Mr. Barnes-Rogers, hello. This is Sam Wilson calling, concerning my client Steve Rogers…”

“My name is not Barnes-Rogers! Call me Bucky, but cut this Barnes-Rogers-crap.”

“Okay Bucky, this is Sam, I have some bad news for you…”

“I need a new phone number and caller ID?”

“No, our lawyers have been reviewing your case, and after careful and intense studies come to the conclusion that your legal name these days is, in fact, Barnes-Rogers, as your drunk idea of a wedding has actually been found legally sound.”

“But we were totally shitfaced!” Bucky exclaimed, suddenly confronted with the reality that what happens in Vegas does not always stay there.

“No, you were, and apparently you were doing a convincing enough impression of a responsible and almost sober adult that the marriage is legal. You and Mr. Rogers-Barnes are in fact married.” Bucky snorted. At least Steve had a stupid double name as well. “Yeah, that’s really funny”, Sam snapped, “especially for an athlete who is looking to build a career in a sport where homosexuality is still seen as a reason to kick someone off the roster. Which yeah, right now I would love to let Steve deal with this mess himself, but unfortunately this is what I get paid for. I left you two alone for a couple of minutes and here you are, married! I guess I can count myself lucky that neither of you can get pregnant. That would just be my luck.” Sam sounded slightly stressed out.

“Being a manager ain’t easy, is it?” Bucky asked sympathetically.

Sam sighed. “Not when your client is a 200 pound Golden Retriever.”

“And you just called me to tell me I gotta change all my IDs and papers to that stupid double name, or…?”

“You seem like a reasonable fellow, Mr. Barnes-Rogers…”

“Bucky!”

“Bucky Barnes-Rogers…”

“You’re just calling me that to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

“Would it help if I said no?”

“Mr. Barnes-Rogers, my point is, I would really really like you to listen to me.”

“Then stop calling me names.”

“Oh, that was your choice.”

“I don’t know how he even said yes!”

“Me neither, but fact is, he did. Anyhow. Bucky, would you be willing to file for an annulment? I mean, as you said, you were drunk and that obviously wasn’t what you wanted…”

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“So…if I send you the paperwork, would you sign it?”

“Do I have to sign as Barnes-Rogers?” Bucky snickered.

“You’re impossible to talk to.”

“Yes. But I will ask you for one favour in return.”

“And that would be what? You can’t keep the ring. We need that back, by the way.”

“Steve’s number.”

“No! Never! Next thing I know, you’re adopting orphans from Cambodia…”

“Okay, it was nice talking to you…”

“Wait, Bucky! You gotta understand me here, I have to make sure that Steve doesn’t do things that could possibly harm his career. And you could be one of those things. I’m just looking out for the guy, I have his best interests at heart.”

Bucky took a deep breath. He needed Sam to understand. “Steve’s my best friend. Has been my best friend. When we stole medicine for his terminally ill mother, we were about to get caught. I let him run and myself get caught. I told him to never tell anyone that he had been there with me. He needed to get the medicine to Sara and he needed to go make something off himself. I thought politics, but well, what do I know, maybe he can influence other people’s lives positively as a football player as well. However, I was sent to military school, because my foster parents didn’t want to put up with me any more. I never said a word. I never tried to save my neck by dragging Steve into this mess. I had thought, he had broken off all contact to me because he was ashamed of what we’d done, or felt guilty and that was why he didn’t write. Or maybe they had caught him after all. When I visited Brooklyn a couple of years later to visit him, there was another family living in their home. He was gone. When we met again in Vegas, after almost a decade of not seeing each other, for the first time after that incident, I found out that he had actually written me. That his mother, whom I loved like my own, had died and he had to go through all of this on his own. He had to deal with his grief alone, because we stole some medicine that couldn’t safe her. Maybe you find this egoistic, but I have so much to tell my best friend, and believe me, when I say, I only want what’s best for him as much as you, if not more than you do. Think about that and get back to me. And please, do it via email, it’s on the university pages as well. Thanks.” With these words, he hung up and not a moment too early as his voice already cracked on the thanks. He buried his face in his hands and tried to fight the tears. He had never told this to anyone. There were only two people in the whole world who knew about this; him and Steve. And now that manager Sam. He seemed trustworthy, though. Didn’t he?


	6. Paris is always a good idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did he get that ring? How did he propose? And why is his mobile suddenly filling up with loads and loads of messages?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while, sorry for that. sometimes real life happens and suddenly you're working two weeks straight and just fall into bed after you get home.  
> Anyhow thanks for all the comments and kudos, thanks for everyone who takes the time to read this.

“So, you wanna tell me, you lost your key card?” Bucky asked when Steve was going through his bag and pockets for the seventh time, unable to find his room key.  
  
“Well, as I don’t have it, the only conclusion would be just that, so yes, probably.”  
  
“Okay, then let’s go back to a bar or somewhere that is not a hotel lobby.”  
  
“Buck, most of Vegas’ bars are just fancy hotel lobbies. And look around, there’s gambling machines right there, and a souvenir shop. Would you maybe wait the few minutes until I got a new key card?”  
  
“You wanna make me stand here and wait for you?” he made a pouty face. Maybe he was a little drunk.  
  
“You’re a menace, Barnes. Just go over there to the machines or the store and act like you’re not waiting for me.”  
  
“I’m not waiting for you, just keen on your whisky.” Bucky grinned.  
  
Steve sighed. “Okay, but don’t do anything stupid while I’m getting the key, okay? I’ll be right over there.”  
  
“Don’t be too long, yeah?” Bucky asked and didn’t know himself how serious he was.  
  
A small smile played around Steve’s lips. “So, you’ll miss me?”  
  
“Nah, just hungry and it would be a pity if I had to wander off on my own.”  
  
“You’ll miss me.” Steve smirked.  
  
“Just hurry up, punk!”  
  
Steve snickered as he went into the direction of the front desks whereas Bucky turned to the slot machines. Great, he never carried cash. But he still could check out the store. It was crap mostly, touristic crap, hotel merch and a lot of overpriced Reebok-clothing thanks to the UFC, Vegas paraphenalia, there was even Vegas-themed jewellery. He looked at it ironically and took a ring into his hands. It was the kind of thing he could see Clint wearing. Just a simple band inscribed with the words ‘I went to Vegas and all I got was this’ Bucky found it funny and he tried it on, because Clints fingers were about a size bigger than his. Then he saw a matching necklace. Clint and Nat would probably find this corny, but he could still have a look at the price tag. Which said way too much for a simple joke. He hung the necklace back and shoved his hands in his pockets as Steve entered the store on the look-out for him.Trying to look cool – why was he trying to look cool? – he strolled over to Steve, hands in his pockets and grinning. As soon as Steve saw him, he smiled and waved excitedly with the keycard.  
  
“Let’s get that scotch.” He said to Bucky, when Bucky had reached him. “Also, please remind me to remember this keycard, she said I won’t get another, as I have already lost too many.”  
  
In the elevator Bucky noticed that he was still wearing the ring. Shit. How did he not beep when he left the store? He could not take it back, they’d think he’d tried to steal it. Unnoticably, he slid it off his finger and let it safely drop into his pocket. He’d deal with this when he was sober.  
When they got into Steve’s “hotel room”, Bucky’s mouth fell open. “Geez, Steve, you got all this to yourself or do I have to mentally prepare for Edelman and Gronk with a crowd of Playboy bunnies to burst through the door any minute?”  
  
“No, it’s just me. It’s a little big, isn’t it?” Steve looked around the already majestic hallway and shrugged.  
  
“It’s probably the presedential suite or something, big is an understatement.”  
  
“The girl at the front desk got me an upgrade when she recognized me. And now I got this suite with a view.” He threw his keycard onto a small desk in the entry hall that probably had some fancy French name and already had three to five key cards lying on it. Bucky just grinned and went to the large window, from where he could see down at all those lights along the Strip.There were the New York New York, the Camelot, the Luxor, and it was so much prettier in the dark.Vegas was a city made for the dark, and it was only beautiful at night. By day it was unbearably hot and looked a little threadbare. He still smiled, though, as he felt Steve’s presence closely behind him. Steve had turned off the lights to make the view even more impressive.  
  
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Bucky asked, “This sight, I mean.”  
  
“To quote any and every corny romantic comedy movie: yes, honey, but you have no idea just how much more incredible it looks from over here.”  
  
Bucky turned red and was happy about the darkness in the room, because Steve couldn’t see him blush beetred. “Thanks, I guess.” He replied stiffly.  
  
“No Buck, I do mean it. You look good. I had imagined what you might look like these days, but you are so much more handsome than I had thought.”  
  
“I didn’t think about you that much.” Bucky replied automatically. He could see Steve’s gaze drop and wanted to slap himself. He never let people in, but this was Steve and he could be himself with him, because Steve knew where Bucky came from. He knew the good, the bad and the ugly. Steve knew most of Bucky’s darkest moments and he was still here. “I saw you on tv all the time, so there was no need to imagine anything. I mean, your tight pants leave nothing up to the imagination when you’re bending over.”  
  
“But you liked what you saw?” Steve asked eagerly. The question of a scrawny nerd who had grown into the body of a jock. A jock with a great butt.  
  
“I always liked what I saw when I looked at you, no matter what you looked like.”  
  
At that, Steve hugged him impulsively and awkwardly, because Bucky was still in the process of turning around and thus his shoulder was kind of wedged in between him and Steve’s chest. Steve, however, didn’t seem to mind.  
  
“How do you always know what to say?” Steve whispered.  
  
“Well, I don’t. But it’s a fact that you will always be the little troublemaker from Brooklyn to me.”  
  
“Exactly what I needed to hear.”  
  
Bucky scrambled a little to turn around, so he’d face Steve, but as soon as he’d accomplished that, he couldn’t talk, because Steve was already kissing him again. This time not hesitant but self-assured and with vigour. When he broke the kiss, Bucky chuckled. “Where’s that scotch you were talking about earlier? I am starting to believe it was just a ruse to get me here. Not that I mind, but…” he trailed off.  
  
“No, I really got some. If you’d just follow me into the lounge.” He said as if Bucky had a chance, when he dragged him there by the hand he was holding.  
  
“Lounge, my ass. Your life must suck.” Bucky couldn’t stop smiling despite the trash talking.  
  
“It does sometimes. When you’re suddenly responsible for an important loss or something.”  
  
“Yeah”, Bucky didn’t buy it, “That didn’t happen too often for you this season.”  
  
“Okay, I guess my life is okay”, Steve admitted, “It could be much worse. I got a great job I love, I got nice teammates, and my manager is great.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“Sounds a little lonely”, Bucky asked a little puzzled as he followed Steve into the next room that had a slight library feel to it with its mahogany furniture and the red upholstery of the couch. Steve had switched on a smaller lamp on a side table that only dimly lit the room.  
  
“Well, I got my teammates, they’re like a family, but I haven’t known them long enough to make a real connection. I’m still in contact with some people from my college team, but we’re all kinda busy, so we’re mostly happy when we get some hours to ourselves.”  
  
Bucky had imagined the life of football player as so much easier as it started to sound right now. One game a week and a little training? Oh no, not in the NFL.  
  
“Last year was especially hard. I had team training for several hours, then strength training and I had to learn the whole playbook by heart. Then I had media training and I had to get to know the team. It is one thing to be a competitive athlete, but a whole different kind of animal in a well-established and –liked franchise.”  
  
“I guess”, Bucky shrugged, “I just have no experiences to be able to relate. I’ve never even been in a similar situation. When you’re on tour, your comrades are your brothers; sometimes you hate them, sometimes you love them, but there’s no getting away from them.You are close, there’s rarely any loneliness.”  
  
“Are you still on active duty?” Steve asked, “You said you were teaching.”  
  
“No. I was in an accident. Now I got a bum left arm, so they decided to take me out of the field on an honorable discharge. On some detours I ended up at UCLA as a teaching assistant.”  
  
“What do you teach?” Steve asked, genuinely interested.  
  
“Russian language and lit. Didn’t I tell you before?”  
  
“Maybe. How do you know Russian?”  
  
“I was in a Russian family before I got to Brooklyn, then I met a few people from Kazakhstan in Afghanistan and they spoke Russian. There are also other people down there prefering Russian over English. One of our informants was Russian-speaking and I tried out my childhood Russian with him. We became friends and I got a lot better at it. I’m also pretty fluent in German, as there were some German troops down there. I’m good with languages and I like to talk to people.”  
  
“German? Really?”  
  
“Jawohl. Aber meine Deutsch ist noch ein bisschen schlecht.”  
  
„It sound so funny. Is that all you do these days, though? You’ve always been such a busy body, hard to imagine you just teaching.”  
  
“Well LA being LA and me being a combat-trained guy, I also get to do some stuntwork every now and then. I get to do a lot of fight scenes.”  
  
“Isn’t that traumatic or something?”  
  
“No, the exact opposite, I find it rather therapeutic.” Bucky smiled at Steve. “And it’s the most fun a guy can get paid for without taking his clothes off.”  
  
Steve looked at him for a long time. Then he grinned. “You’ve always been kind of weird, Barnes. But who knew you could get weirder?”  
  
“Shut your big mouth, Captain America. It’s not like you’ve grown out of your patriotic phase.”  
  
Steve chuckled as he let Bucky sit down on the couch and went over to the serving cart. There was an actual serving cart! Steve got two glasses and a bottle with whisky and placed them on the table in front of Bucky before he sat down beside him and proceeded to pour them a drink.  
  
“So, you didn’t just lure me here under a false pretense, you really got some scotch.” He said as he and Steve clinked their glasses.  
  
Steve grinned when they had taken a sip and shook his head slightly. “It was a half-true pretense. I also meant to show you something.” He got up and went over to the door of what Bucky supposed must have been the bedroom. “Just a moment, I’m back in a minute.” With that his mop of golden hair disappeared and Bucky poured himself another drink, as he heard Steve go through a bag.  
  
“Please don’t show me your underwear collection! No need to model that in front of me!” he shouted amusedly over to the next room and heard Steve chuckle. He knocked down another glass of whisky and felt its warmth spreading beneath his ribs. And he refilled his glass, when Steve began cursing.  
  
“Everything okay in there?” he asked loudly.  
  
“Nah, I just can’t find my matching panty set.” Steve replied snarkily.  
  
After another five minutes and two glasses, Bucky was already quite cheery as Steve re-entered the room.  
  
“Oh, there you are! I missed you, Stevie!” he cooed enthusiasticly.  
  
“I see you got a little headstart, right? But yeah, I found it.” He waved a leather-clad notebook in the air.  
  
“What’s that?” Bucky asked puzzled.  
  
“Something like a diary. I keep things that are important to me in here. Sketches, tickets, photos, cards, letters… what I meant, though, was this.” And he pulled out a slightly worn letter that Bucky almost instantly recognized as the last one he had written Steve.  
  
“I…wow…I can’t believe that you still have it…that you carry it around with you. Why?” Bucky was completely taken by surprise.  
  
“Because… it’s my lucky charm. And it reminds me where I come from and that I have to make my mark on the world, that I can’t mess up and that I have to make you proud. It also tells me everyday how I have failed my greatest achievement.”  
  
“How is that?” Bucky didn’t quite get what Steve was saying. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe Steve’s rhetoric.  
  
“I got you to fall in love with me and I don’t now how, and then I failed to make you feel loved. You had to doubt how important you were to me and that… it…well, it sucks.” He sniffled a little and looked at Bucky with tearstained eyes. Then he took his hand. He was still standing in front of the brunette who was still sitting on the sofa. Bucky squeezed his hand. Then he got up.  
  
Steve looked at him like there was nothing else in the world. “Maybe this was fate, Buck. Or well, a second chance”, Steve whispered, “Buck, can you ever forgive me for…”  
  
“Steve?” Bucky asked before Steve could make himself feel even guiltier, “Did you love me?”  
  
Steve’s eyes went wide. Then he smiled sadly. “The fact that you don’t know that proves my point. I did. I do. Even after all these years, I still love you.”  
  
Bucky smiled broadly. “I got a stupid idea. And I am talking a massively stupid idea here: Let’s get married. We are in Vegas, let’s just do it and figure the rest out as we go. What do you say?”  
  
Steve burst into laughter. “Are you serious? Because if you were, I’d be in in a heartbeat.”  
  
The two of them laughed and that was when Bucky remembered the accidentally shoplifted ring in his pocket. Things were just working out tonight. He got unto one knee and tried to get the ring out of his pocket as Steve looked at him pretty amused. “What are you doing, Buck?”  
  
“Steven Grant Rogers, will you marry me?” And as he said the words, he held up the ring. Steve’s look was priceless, then it started as a whisper and grew louder and louder until he was screaming: “Yes. Yes, Buck. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, I do!” So he took the ring from Bucky’s finger and that was when he noticed the inscription and burst out laughing. “Do I even wanna know how you got this?”  
  
Bucky shook his head. “It’s a long story.”  
  
“It’s perfect anyway. Or maybe because of that.” Steve said and pulled Bucky closer to kiss him. “It’s a pity I don’t have a ring for you…Wait, take my Superbowl ring!!!”  
  
“I can’t take that, Steve!”  
  
“You have to, I don’t have another ring.”  
  
“Then I’ll be fine without…” But Steve wasn’t having any of it, he had already shoved the ring into Bucky’s hand. Geez, that thing was huge.  
  
“We need a chapel. Siri, where is the nearest wedding chapel?” He asked his iPhone. After he got the answer, he almost dragged Bucky through the door, which slammed shut after them.  
  
“Steve, the keycard!”  
  
“No time, gotta get married!”  
  
43 minutes later, they were James Buchanan Barnes-Rogers and Steven Grant Rogers-Barnes. 

*

Bucky’s phone vibrated once and did a small leap across his desk. He looked at it indignently. Probably some message by his network provider. A second vibration followed. Okay, maybe Clint was bored or Nat had sent him another cat video. It vibrated again and bumped into the printed Powerpoint presentation of his first semesters’ oral presentations he still had to grade. Another buzz. Did his neighbour, a science student called Peter, accidentally burn down their building? He grabbed the – once again buzzing – phone before it dropped of the desk and saw the Whatsapp notification from an unknown number. That was weird. He unlocked his screen and dropped his phone when he saw who the unknown number was.  
  
S: “Hello honey! How are you doing?”  
S: “Don’t you wanna talk to your husband?”  
S: “No, but seriously, sorry if that before was inappropriate. I just got excited”  
S: “I just meant to be funny”  
S: “you mad or upset?”  
S: “Wait, you’re probably just busy doing life or sexy teacher stuff”  
S: “Also, I should probably give you some time to answer”  
  
Bucky laughed. “Might be a good idea” he texted back. “But yes, my betrothed, I do wanna talk to you. How did you get THIS number?”  
  
S: “I got ways and means.” Steve replied crypticly.  
  
B: “You mean you got money and a workaholic and bloodhound of a manager.”  
  
S: “That helps as well.”  
  
B: “Btw, teacher stuff isn’t sexy.” Bucky needed to correct him.  
  
S: “Are you wearing your hair in a bun?”  
  
B: “Yes? Howcome?”  
  
S: “That is definitely sexy.”  
  
B: “That’s a weird kink. “  
  
S: “Don’t shame, Mr. Evanescence” He could almost hear Steve laughing.  
  
B: “That is not a kink.”  
  
S: “It’s still weird.”  
  
B: “Is not. You’re weird.”  
  
S: “That’s why you love me.”  
  
B: “Who said I loved you?”  
  
S: “You did.”  
  
B: “Did I?” Bucky honestly could not remember if he had told Steve he still loved him.  
  
A little pause before Steve answered implied that Bucky had not recently told him. “Well, I got it black on white.”  
  
B: “But well, I also told pizza dog, I loved him.”  
  
S: “Who is pizza dog? You already cheating on me?”  
  
B: “Clint’s newest stray. He has this habit of taking in stray dogs, drives Nat crazy or so she claims. Well, this one loves pizza, so Clint calls him pizza dog.”  
  
S: “That makes sense.”  
  
B: “Only in Clint’s and your world. But well.”  
  
S: “What I meant to talk to you about…”  
  
B: “Here it comes, the divorce talk.” Bucky sighed as he typed.  
  
S: “Nah, I’m not Sam and he wants an annulment anyways. Anyhow, what I wanted to ask you was if you wanted to meet up.”  
  
B: “Hu?” Bucky was faster typing and sending this than calculating coolness points lost.  
  
S: “Let’s meet. I could come up to Santa Monica next weekend. If you want me there, that is.”  
  
B: “No.”  
B: “I mean Yes.  
B: “But No.  
B: “Effort.”  
  
S: “Buck, you might think you are clearly stating what you mean, but I can’t follow you?”  
  
B: “We should… I read somewhere that in every relationship both people should put in equal efforts. And if you come out here after finding out my number, it would throw us off balance.”  
  
He saw Steve type. And delete. And type again. Then:  
S: “But Buck, you proposed. So you coming to Boston would tip the scales as well.”  
  
B: “In both cases it would also mean nosy managers, team mates, friends and stuff.”  
  
S: “So Vegas?” Steve suggested.  
  
B: “Never again. I got a better idea anyway.”  
  
S: “You do?”  
  
B: “NYC. Brooklyn.”  
  
S: “Yes. And as they say: New York is always a good idea.”  
  
B: “That’s Paris, Steve. Paris is always a good idea.”  
  
S: “Well, then let’s do Paris next.”  
  
B: “One after the other. Will you go to Brooklyn with me?”  
  
S: “I already said yes, Buck. The answer will never change. But let’s meet up in Manhattan. Then go to Brooklyn together. It has never been the same without you.”  
  
B: “Where in Manhattan?” Bucky asked ON.  
  
S: “Empire State Building?”  
  
B: “Could you be more clichée?” Bucky chuckled.  
  
S: “Bethesda’s Fountain.”  
  
B: “Is that a suggestion or an example?”  
  
S: “I could also say that we should look at the Boat House for the wedding reception, as we’re a little behind on that.”  
  
B: “Okay, okay, Bethesda’s. Let’s do it.” Bucky felt something like excitement bubbling up from his stomach into his chest and it came out as laughter.  
  
S: “Let’s get back to this when we booked the flights and know when we’ll arrive, okay?”  
  
B: “Yes, Captain.”  
  
S: “Nice, another weird kink of mine.”  
  
B: “Punk.”  
  
S: “Jerk.”  
  
B: “Love you.”  
  
S: “I told you you did.”


	7. Too Much That Time Can Not Erase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you have a first date with your husband?

As his steps carried him through Strawberry Fields and the western part of the park towards Bethesda’s Fountain, Bucky heard the rain hit his red umbrella rhythmically. The park smelt of rain on the pavement and the wet soil, a scent that Bucky loved. New York smelt so different from LA, it even smelt like coming home. The park was almost empty, only a handful of people hurried by him trying to hide under folded newspapers and behind turned up collars on trenchcoats. When he arrived at the top of the terrace and looked to the fountain, he couldn’t see Steve, but he made his way down the stairs anyway and walked toward the angel in the fountain. He looked across the lake, then turned to look around and there Steve stood. Smiling beautifully and it took everything in Bucky to not just run toward Steve and throw himself at him. As he restrained himself from running and walked over to the underpass beneath the terrace, he took it all in. The clean shaven player he knew from tv had been replaced with a dapper gentleman with a beard and a long black peacoat that fit him perfectly. Instead of sneakers, he wore proper brown dress shoes, the jeans had been replaced with straight black pants. Beneath his figure-hugging dark gray woolen sweater, he wore a white shirt that stuck out at the collar and the trim of the pullover. Steve’s hands were burried in his pockets and he looked like the epitome of casual style. Bucky felt slightly underdressed in his black skinny jeans with his favourite dark blue sweater and the brown leather boots he loved. His good old leather jacket and the red umbrella rounded out the outfit.  
As soon as Bucky had reached the space sheltered from the rain, Steve’s body jerked into motion, as he closed the gap between them as fast as he could without running and hugged Bucky tight to his body. And he smelled so good. Bucky inhaled deeply and felt himself relax. All the tension from before that Steve might still just want to let him down gently was gone. Then Steve’s hands went to his shoulders to give them a little space and Bucky leaned back the few inches reluctantly, but then as Steve’s hands just went up to cup his cheeks and his lips found Bucky’s, he was okay with the few inches. This didn’t feel like friends who hadn’t seen each other for almost a life time. It didn’t feel like two people having to think about getting a divorce. But it also didn’t feel like a first date. This felt like a third date on a slow Sunday morning. A companionship that had seen a lot and perservered through it all only to turn into something deeper. Like a love that had only grown over the years. There was a feeling of closeness between them Bucky had not expected after only a few days of texting back and forth. And there was a kind of love inside him for that man standing in front of him that he could see reflected in Steve’s eyes. This whole thing was messed up and chaotic and weird, just like his feelings, but right now, he didn’t care, because he knew that Steve and him, they were in this together.  
  
When Steve’s lips slowly retreated, Bucky managed a hoarse “Hi.” before his lips broke out into a huge grin without his permission.  
  
Steve chuckled. “Hi.”  
  
For a moment they stood there, just listening to the rain and Bucky turned slightly to look out toward the fountain and the lake. They were lucky that there was no one else around in this usually crowded space. He took a look around, at the beautifully painted tiles, at the murals. At Steve.  
  
“Aren’t you worried that people are going to see us?” Bucky suddenly asked from a place of insecurity. Steve was a celebrity athlete after all and Sam had made it clear that something like this could potentially ruin his career.  
  
Steve shook his head. “Nah. I had the talk with the Patriots press team. I kind of had to explain where my ring had gone and well, I thought it might be a good idea to tell them straight away that I am not that straight.”  
  
“Oh fuck, what did Sam think of that idea?”  
  
“Nothing much, I didn’t tell him until afterwards.” Steve looked slightly guilty, but also had a sneaky grin tucked into the corner of his mouth.  
  
“He shouted at you, didn’t he? I can probably be glad he didn’t call me.” Bucky was about to facepalm.  
  
“Yeah, he did when he first heard it. But then he heard about the outcome and he was happier for me than angry because I didn’t give him the heads up. He’s on my side after all. Then he asked me if I could give him a few days off, because he was in dire need of a vacation. Then he got your number.”  
  
“He’s a good guy, isn’t he?” Bucky asked.  
  
“The best. Always in my corner, always has my back. And now your’s as well, apparently. He told me he’d beat me up personally if I didn’t use that number. Said something about it being hard enough to get, but then he added that you’re not posing a problem, which is his way of saying that he thinks you’re great. What did you tell him?”  
  
Bucky shrugged and his cheeks reddened when he thought back to his conversation with Sam. “Nothing much. We just talked. I was mostly annoyed with him for using my full surname. Did he tell you about that catastrophe?”  
  
Steve barked out with laughter. “Thank you so much for calling that great double-name a disaster when it was your fault we’re stuck with it.”  
  
“How is that my fault?” Bucky asked perplexed. In what universe had he thought that was a good idea?  
  
“You didn’t want to be James Buchanan Rogers.”  
  
“Well, you could have become Steven Grant Barnes.”  
  
“That’s what you said back then. And then the minister wanted a decision and I said we’d just keep our names and you said that’d be so unromantic and we could also go with a doube-name.”  
  
“And you were okay with that but not with Barnes?”  
  
“Well, they would have to change my jersey name.”  
  
“Newsflash: they will have to change it now as well. Only now you need to train for slightly broader shoulders so the name fits.”  
  
“No, they don’t have to. I think. I mean, I am still Steve Rogers. Only with an added Barnes.”  
  
“Sounds romantic. ‘I got me a Barnes’.”  
  
Steve grinned. “Well, I did, didn’t I?”  
  
Bucky rolled his eyes, as Steve snaked his arm around him and tugged him closer.  
  
“Want to sit down for a moment?” Steve asked and nodded his head in the direction of one of the benches tucked into the walls of the underpass.  
  
They sat down and Bucky looked at Steve. “I never told you that I loved you in Vegas, did I?”  
  
Steve smiled at Bucky and stroked his cheek. “There are many ways to say I love you and saying the words is just one of them. You told me in so many ways. I mean you married me, right?”  
  
Bucky had to laugh. “Okay, I see how that might have tipped you off.”  
  
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, until Steve suddenly burst out: “I’m so glad I got you back into my life, Bucky. You were missing. During graduation, when I got my scholarship, I always felt that hole. When we met in Vegas, I mean, how fucking improbable was that? I just had to get you to talk to me. I had to get you back. And boy was I angry when you told me, I didn’t care about you.”  
  
“Sorry. I might have gotten slightly overdramatic and maybe a little hysteric. For years, hating you had been my easiest way to deal with the pain of losig you, I guess. I wasn’t ready to get you back and lose you again.”  
  
“Me neither. We just chose different ways out, you never wanting to get me back and me unwilling to let you go.” Steve sighed.  
  
“And of course Steve Rogers would be too stubborn to accept anything else then.”  
  
“That’s Steve Rogers-Barnes to you.”  
  
“Pretty sure there should be a Captain in there somewhere.” Bucky teased and Steve chuckled and hugged him to his chest.  
  
“Btw, you clean up well, Mr. Barnes-Rogers.” Steve then said with an appreciative look at Bucky.  
  
“Well thank you, kind sir, you don’t look to shabby either.”  
  
“Did you regain your memories of that night?” Steve then asked.  
  
Bucky closed his eyes and dropped his face into his open palms. “Yes, though not all. Everything after we left your hotel is pretty much gone or extremely hazy.”  
  
“We got married at the Wedding Bells Chapel, because you really didn’t like the one at the MGM. The décor at the Planet Hollywood was too ‘ugh’ for you. The Excalibur was just having a whole bunch of ceremonies going on. And you loved getting married outside. So yeah, we chose that one.”  
  
“And Steve? Why did we wake up at the Super 8 of all places?”  
  
“Because they wouldn’t give me the key to my room and you couldn’t find your room key or remember which room you were in and so they would not let you into your room, either. And the Super 8 was the first hotel I could get. The other hotels turned us away whenever I would say that I was Steve Rogers. ‘Yeah, right, and I am Tom Brady, get the fuck out’ was one of the nicer sentences. And one believed me and hated the Pats.”  
  
Bucky tried hard not to laugh, but he failed. Miserably. “Sucks being a celebrity and having an intoxicated husband, right?”  
  
“No, I’m quite happy with how everything turned out. Maybe it wasn’t the happiest night of my life, but I got a feeling it will still be one of the moments I will always look back to and remember how my life changed back then.”  
  
“Let’s go walk a little? Okay?” Bucky asked.  
  
Steve gave a nod and took his hand, while the two of them got close together to fit beneath Bucky’s umbrella. They were silent for a while, because they knew what question would have to come next.  
  
“Do you want to get divorced? Or do you need to get divorced?” Bucky asked, when they paused in front of the scene from Alice in Wonderland.  
  
He felt Steve shake his head before he said “No. I do not need to get divorced. I’m okay. We said, we’d get married and see where life takes us from there. And I said yes to that. I am still in. Are you? I mean, I can see 100 rational reasons going through your head right now, which all say that you shouldn’t do this. You have always been the one to worry and think things through, maybe too much so.”  
  
Bucky sighed. “I… I do want this to work, but how can we make this work? I mean… Eastcoast”, he pointed at Steve, “Westcoast” and he pointed at himself.  
  
Steve pointed at his chest. “Frequent flyer. And well, even if we lived in the same city, you probably wouldn’t see me that much during the season anyways. As I said, the life of a football player is…special and intense. But there are other people who make this long distance thing work. And I could switch teams…”  
  
“Leave the Patriots? I don’t even know that many others teams in the league and mostly because you played them, so I guess this is probably the best place for a professional athlete, right? Nah, you’re not sacrificing that.”  
  
Steve smiled. “Anyway, Buck, those are just logistics. The question isn’t about that right now. It is if you want this. Because if the answer to that is no, then we do not need to discuss this any further.”  
  
Bucky looked at Steve. “Steve… I…”, he started whispering, “I do want you, but I am afraid that I am not what you want. Or what you need. I have changed, I have some new demons, I have some new scars…”  
  
“You still have all of me. You have changed, but you are still my Bucky. Time has this habit of changing us all, and I’m dragging around a couple of bags with emotional baggage as well. But there is so much history with us that time will never be able to erode. I am willing to go all in with this. Are you?”  
  
Steve looked at Bucky who was staring at the ground, his forehead one big frown. Bucky was afraid and Steve could tell. Bucky was afraid to give all he got and be left again. But then Bucky looked up into Steve’s warm eyes. Had he only looked up earlier, he might have known earlier. Because this, this was Steve. He gave a laugh. “I can be such an idiot. Of course I am.”  
  
“Of course you are an idiot, but you are my idiot. And now come here!” Steve kissed him on the side of his head. “I still need my Superbowl ring back, though.”  
  
Bucky took the ring from his coat and gave it to Steve, who put it into his coat pocket, from which he then produced a small box which he gave to Bucky. He looked at Steve questioningly.  
  
“Open it, go on!” Steve said impatiently.  
  
In the box was a simple gold band that looked a lot like the one Steve was still wearing. When Bucky took it out of the box, he saw an inscription in the band. Well…shit.it said.  
  
Bucky burst into laughter. “You are such a dork.”  
  
“Well, it summarized the situation perfectly back then.”  
  
“So basically our wedding bands say I went to Vegas and all I got was this ring. Well, shit. At least it’s unique.”  
  
“By the way, where did you get that ring back then?”  
  
“I accidentally shoplifted it at the MGM.”  
  
“You what? So I basically got married with a stolen ring?”  
  
“If you want to look at it that way… you could also say it’s our ‘something borrowed, something new’ you know?”  
  
“Except you stole it.”  
  
“Borrowed it without permission, but with honest intentions to bring it back. Until we got married. I didn’t realise I had it in my pocket and I didn’t beep and then I was too embarrassed to bring it back and then too drunk to remember and then too married to care.”  
  
“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Now this came to a close pretty naturally, but I don't want it to end. I had so much fun with those two and with Sam, Clint and Nat, but it's time to say goodbye to this story which was originally planned as a one-shot. I don't even know how this grew so much longer. It is time to let them figure out their lives without me meddling in them.  
> I fixed a couple of continuity problems I noticed, I managed to give Bucky the happy ending he deserved and Steve a Bucky that trusts him again. So, I guess, my job here is done.  
> Thank you so much one last time to all the readers, kudoers, commentators and spectators. I am sorry for any factual, grammatical, semantical and orthographical errors. If you find them, collect them. Maybe one day they will be worth a fortune. Have a great day, y'all. Thank you, this is me taking a deep bow.


End file.
